


A Bronze Pendant

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies, then the epilogue is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Younger Thorin is working as a blacksmith and meets a human girl. Hair braiding and sexy times (eventually) ensue. Because I like that in my smut, they have tender feelings for each other before the sexy times can ensue. The sex is explicit once they get down to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bronze Pendant

**Author's Note:**

> This was the very first fanfic I ever wrote.
> 
> Originally posted at http://thorinsmut.tumblr.com/post/38761438427/a-bronze-pendant

Master Egill the innkeeper hired the Dwarf to do blacksmithing, to make us new cutlery for the kitchen (spoons always go missing), make a stock of horseshoes for the inn’s mounts, and repair this and that, candelabra and cups and such that had broken over the years, like a traveling tinker who stayed until the job was done.  
“You’ll take care of him!” He growled at me, of course, since I was the youngest of his hired girls, thus having the lowest status. “See to it that he’s fed and clean and kept happy, and keep him out of the way of the regular guests. He’s to stay in the little corner room.”  
I curtsied, but my ‘yes, sir.’ was too quiet to be heard… my throat had gone dry from fear. I knew nothing about Dwarves.  
I could hear the heavy clanging of the Dwarf’s hammer muffled through the walls of the inn, as I spent my day running up and down the stairs cleaning rooms and making beds. but I did not see him until that evening when Cook sent me out with a big bowl of mutton stew and the end of a loaf of bread for him.  
He was still tirelessly working at the small mobile forge Master Egill usually kept stowed in the corner of the barn. The Dwarf had set it up to the side of the smaller courtyard, near one of the rainwater barrels, and had various benches and tables scrounged up from the grounds surrounding him, holding tools and bits of metal, as he pounded a piece of red-hot metal on the anvil.  
He had a dark beard and long dark hair, lightly shot with gray, braided before his ears but otherwise unbound. He wore a dark shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brows were heavy, his concentration so fully on his work I did not think he saw me. He was built so wide in the shoulders I at first did not realize that he was at least a few inches shorter than myself.  
Suddenly, following no cue I could see, he spun, dunking the red-hot metal into the rainwater barrel, ducking away from the massive hissing cloud of steam it released. After a few moments, he fished it out again and lay it on the bench beside him.  
“Is that my dinner, lass?” he asked, his deep voice carrying despite it’s quiet tone.  
I nearly jumped out of my skin, “…yes, sir.” I forced out through my dry throat, scurrying forward to hand him his food. He sat himself on an empty portion of bench, balancing the bowl on his knee, tasting both the stew and the bread.  
“Good.” He rumbled, “Though… if I may beg for a tankard of ale to go with it? Smithing is thirsty work.” His blue eyes were sad beneath his brows, now that I was close enough to see. He smelled of smoke and metal and sweat.  
“Oh! Oh of course.” I bobbed the quickest curtsey I could and raced back to the kitchen to get him the ale. On my way back out Cook handed me my bowl of stew, scraped from the bottom of the pot. I carried it with me to keep it safe from the stable boys as I delivered the ale to the dwarf. He accepted the tankard with a polite nod, taking a long sip, then gestured to a clear space on a bench nearby.  
“If you would like to sit, lass…” he invited.  
“I…” I dithered, “I forgot a spoon…” I latched onto an excuse. In answer, he leaned toward the nearby table and plucked a spoon off of it, silently handed it to me before going back to his own dinner.  
With no excuse, and not wishing to be rude, I sat myself down to eat my stew. The spoon he’d handed me was an elegant thing – sturdy and angular, but light, and had the inn’s crest hammered into the handle… which might help stop them from disappearing so much.  
The Dwarf noticed me admiring the spoon and smiled behind his beard.  
“It’s… very pretty.” I complimented. He waved his hand dismissively.  
“I learned metalworking on my father’s knee… long ago, and far away.” He seemed sadder, as he said it, looking off into the distance, the fire from the forge reflecting off his skin.. and we lapsed back into silence as we finished our dinner.  
I was scraping up the last of my stew with the new spoon when he silently handed me a small piece of his bread.  
“Sir, I…” I protested, “That’s yours…” but I wanted it. Cook so rarely ‘wasted’ bread on low level servants like me unless it was burnt or stale…  
“I have had more than enough.” he rumbled, and I took it, to not be rude, using it to sop up the last of my stew.  
When I was done eating, he was also done, and I gathered up the dirty dishes.  
“You should take the finished cutlery too.” he said, standing and stretching his broad shoulders before he set about organizing his tools, throwing a scoop of coal into the forge… he’d been working nonstop for hours, was he really going to do more smithing after dinner too?  
I gathered up the pile of spoons he’d gotten my spoon from, and went back to the kitchen, hearing the great thudding clangs as the Dwarf resumed his work.  
Cook was impressed with the spoons, praising the craftsmanship to everyone who passed through the kitchen as I set to work washing the dishes.  
It was not long after I had finished the dishes when the dull clanging from the forge stopped. I made sure the small corner room was ready, pitcher of water and a cup on the dresser, chamber pot neatly stowed under the bed, before I went to fetch him to his rooms.  
His forge had been turned out, his benches and tables stacked behind it, his tools stowed.  
The Dwarf stood beside the rain barrel, stripped to the waist, pouring a bucket of water over his head.  
He was… I am not sure I can say that he was beautiful… but he was. The last of the dying summer sun and the light from a newly lit torch gleamed off his wet body, the muscles standing out like ropes across his arms and broad shoulders, thick black curls cascading down his chest with a line leading down his belly to…  
“Yes, lass?” he spoke quietly, but once again I nearly jumped out of my skin, I could feel myself blushing to have been discovered staring.  
“I c-can show you to your rooms, sir.” I stammered, “when you’re ready.”  
He nodded briefly, shrugging into his shirt, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his face.  
“Lead on, then.” he rumbled, picking up a pack I hadn’t seen leaning against the wall. I led him to the corner room, opening the door for him and handing him the key. He stepped inside, glanced around, and nodded in satisfaction, placing his pack on the floor.  
“If there is anything you need, sir.” I said, bobbing a quick curtsey, “I am charged with seeing to your needs… I am Finna…”  
“Thank you lass.” he said, sad blue eyes gentle. “My name is Thorin… good night.”  
The next day I heard the clanging of the forge start early… not as early as I was up helping Cook with breakfast, but earlier than I would have expected. I hoped it would not annoy any of the late-rising guests.  
Cook sent me out with a big bowl of porridge and a thick slice of buttered bread and a list of the utensils and cutlery she wanted for the Dwarf… for Thorin.  
He accepted the porridge silently as soon as he had a break in his work, sitting himself down to eat beside the forge.  
“One thing I could use.” he said, as I was about to leave, “Would be a pitcher of water, kept full.”  
“Yes sir.” I said, and went to beg Cook for a pitcher. She was reluctant to let any of her things outside, but sent me out with a pitcher only slightly chipped and a cup that was missing it’s handle.  
It was a normal day for me, save that every few hours I went down to the courtyard to refill his pitcher of water as he tirelessly worked at his forge… none of the human blacksmith’s we’d had had such stamina. Now and then there would be a small pile of completely implements beside the pitcher.  
“Take those in, then, lass.” He’d say in his deep rumble, and I would nod.  
Cook was in a good enough mood from having a new set of ladles that she gave me a serving of stew that wasn’t scraped from the bottom of the pot and a small piece of bread as she sent me out with Thorin’s dinner.  
“Take your time, girl.” She’d said, indulgently, “You’ve worked hard today.”  
I balanced both bowls and a tankard of ale for Thorin as I made my way into the courtyard, and he paused his work to eat, silently gesturing me toward a nearby clear spot on a bench. I sat without arguing, eager to enjoy the unexpected bounty of my bread and stew.  
“Cook is very happy with the ladles.” I complimented, hesitantly.  
“I should have the rest of the kitchen things done tomorrow or the next day.” the dwarf said soberly, “Then probably a week or two of horseshoes… then… how many things do you think I will be asked to repair?” he asked.  
“I… don’t know.” I said, nervous because I didn’t have an answer for him.  
“No matter.” He said gently, wiping up the last of his stew with his bread, “I have a few months before I am expected elsewhere.”  
“Could I get another serving of this?” He asked, raising his bowl.  
“Of course, sir!” I said, putting my half-full bowl down and quickly whisking his back to the kitchen. I returned with stew scrapings I was almost embarrassed to serve him.  
“I am sorry for the quality,” I apologized as I handed it to him, “Tomorrow we will plan better for your appetite.”  
The Dwarf accepted the stew wordlessly, and we both settled back to eat.  
“If you want a real bath…” I said, gathering up the dirty dishes, blushing in remembrance of what I had accidentally seen the day before, “We’ll draw one for you in your room, just ask in advance…”  
“Perhaps tomorrow.” he said, his blue eyes almost amused at my discomfort.

Over the weeks we established a routine. He always invited me to sit with him at dinner, and he would ask me about my life… but he was reluctant to speak of his own past.

“I had a home once.” Thorin said, leaning forward, brooding, the light of the forge fire gleaming off his dark hair, “long ago, in Erebor, with my family. We are scattered now, those of us who still live…” and that was all he would tell me… his eyes were so sad as he said it I could not bear to ask more… and my fellow hired girls did not know where Erebor was when I asked them, so I could not learn more.

“I’ve never met a Dwarf before.” I confessed to him one day, sitting beside him in the courtyard by the forge, “I was so frightened of you, at first…”  
“I know.” he said, quietly, and he seemed almost amused.

He was shocked when he learned my age. He nearly sputtered into his ale when I told him… only his great dignity saved him.  
“You’re a… a child!” he rumbled, eyes running over me assessingly, surprised.  
“I am not!” I protested, “I’m a full-grown woman! I am old enough to wed, if I choose!”  
His eyebrows raised, but then he nodded, “I forget, sometimes, how different humans are.”  
“We’re not so different.” I protested. For reasons I could not quite understand I did not want him to think of me as ‘other’, as different from him… or as a child, anything but that!  
“How old do you think I am?” He asked in his deep rumble.  
“…forty?” I guessed, thinking I was probably guessing high. He chuckled deep.  
“Try higher.” he urged.  
“Fifty?” I said, incredulously. He shook his head.  
“Over a hundred, lass… and I am still a young Dwarf.”  
“Oh…” I poked at the bottom of my empty bowl with my spoon… no wonder I sounded young to him… “Still.” I rallied, “among Men eighteen is considered adult. I am old enough to enter contracts and… anything.” I ended vaguely, not even sure myself what ‘anything’ entailed, but feeling the need to point it out anyway, thought not quite sure why.  
He rested his hand on my shoulder, gently. The first time he’d ever touched me. His hand was large and warm, I could feel the roughness of his calluses through my dress, and the fire-and-metal scent of his skin was stronger.  
“I meant no insult, lass.” His sad blue eyes were gentle, his voice quiet.  
I smiled at him, reaching up to cover his strong hand with my own small one, pressing it to me for a moment before releasing him, and he withdrew his hand, rubbing his finger along my jaw affectionately as he moved away.  
“I am… probably not very pretty… by dwarven standards…” I said, quietly. Voicing a concern that had been nagging me recently, for some reason.  
Thorin stood, taking my empty bowl and stacking it with his bowl and tankard before stoking the fire in his forge.  
“Dwarven women are more similar to dwarven men than they are to human women.” He agreed, “Just as elven women are more similar to elven men than they are to human women… and you do sometimes seem too thin, and too tall… but you are pretty enough as far as human women go.”  
I could feel myself blushing from the compliment, faint though it was.  
“Besides…” the dwarf said, organizing his tools, “I am sure I am not so handsome by human standards, either.”  
“Oh, but you are!” I protested, “Even Cook said so, and she doesn’t like anyone… she said that were you taller she would…” and here I broke off, blushing too hard to restate the brazen things Cook had said about him.  
Thorin had no answer for this, and I returned to the kitchen with the dirty dishes, embarrassed at my forwardness.

Master Egill was yelling at me… a guest had complained to him about something, and he had settled on me as the scapegoat. I trembled, head hanging as he heaped blame and insults on me, hoping that he would not dock my pay, or my food, for the infraction he imagined I had committed.  
I suddenly became aware of a warm body behind mine as a large callused hand came to rest on my shoulder, pushing me slightly to the side. I did not resist as Thorin pushed me out of the way.  
“Master Egill, I would speak with you.” Thorin said, staring the tall man down. “Finna,” he said, quietly, aside to me, his eyes never leaving Master Egill’s, “My water is empty. Go fill it.”  
I glanced quickly between Master Egill and Thorin, before bolting.  
“How much more repair do you have for me to do?” Thorin was asking, “I need to plan…” and I was out of range.  
His water was nearly full… I refilled it with fresh cool water from the well anyway… and not sure what I could do without being yelled at by Master Egill, I waited there for Thorin to return.  
He hardly seemed to notice me when came back to the forge.  
“There are better places to work than this inn.” he growled, quietly, between blows on a half-made horseshoe. “There are innkeepers who care for their employees like family… you would be better off working elsewhere. Somewhere they feed you well, and don’t punish you for things you have not done.”  
“Thank you for distracting him…” I said, quietly. “I’ll stay out of his sight for a few hours and he’ll forget about me…”  
He did not acknowledge me… so I left. I helped Cook for a while, and then helped the laundresses, and then I decided it was probably safe for me to go back to running up and down stairs cleaning rooms… but the memory of Thorin’s strong hand on my shoulder would not leave me.  
That night at dinner, he seemed more withdrawn than usual, brooding again.  
“I leave in two days.” He said, low and quiet, drinking his ale. His words hit me like a blow, I flinched away from them.  
I wanted to tell him to stay… but how could I? I wanted to tell him to take me with him… but I could not do that either. Without words I could say, I reached out and lay my hand on his strong shoulder, gripped it as hard as I could, let my touch say the things words could not.  
“You are kind, lass.” he rumbled as I released him, and we ate our dinner in silence.  
I did the dishes as quickly as I could, then went out to sit and watch him work in the light of the dying day. He did not seem to notice me, his concentration on the glowing metal he worked.  
He worked longer into the evening than he usually did, until after the sun had completely set. I brought him out a lamp when it seemed he would continue working, and he adjusted it’s light to his work space without so much as looking at me.  
I sat leaning against a wall as he worked, he was making something small now, using small hammers that must have been his own because I knew Master Egill did not have such delicate tools.  
I admit I nearly dozed, watching him work, so I didn’t quite notice when he was done. The Dwarf had put away his tools and stripped off his shirt before I could excuse myself to save us both embarrassment. He was pouring buckets of rainwater over his head when I realized that I was still watching him and should not be… but I thought that after the morrow I would not be able to see him, perhaps ever again… and I could not bring myself to leave.  
I watched him scrub the sooty water off his muscular body, wash the smoke out of his long dark hair…  
I was mesmerized as he walked toward me, the light of the lamp accenting different muscles as he moved… he had scars, I hadn’t noticed before. I wondered where he had gotten them… and now I might never have the chance to ask.  
He offered a hand to me, where I sat beside the wall. “It grows late, lass.” he said, quietly. I took his hand and he drew me effortlessly to my feet. I followed him into the inn… thinking of nothing but how sad it would be not to see him again, watching the water from his hair drip down the muscles of his still-bare back.  
He stopped, and I stopped behind him.  
“…lass?” he asked, deep voice gentle, and I looked up to realize I had followed him to his room. I blushed, turning to go away to my own rooms… but my heart pained and I turned back to him.  
“I… I do not wish to be away from you.” I said, quietly.  
He stepped through his door and turned back toward me, made a small welcoming gesture, “Would you stay, then?”  
Before I could change my mind, I stepped through into the room with him.

He closed the door behind me, but did not lock it as I stood uncertainly in the small room. He moved easily around me, to the dresser where he roughly dried himself with a towel provided by the inn, then took up a small metal comb and began combing his hair.  
“Could I…” I asked, hesitantly, reaching for the comb. He paused before nodding briefly and handing me the comb. He sat on the edge of the bed and I knelt behind him, enjoying his scent of metal and fire, brushing his damp hair as gently as I could. His locks were softer than I would have guessed, the strands thick but silken in feel. I did my best not to be distracted by his shirtless back, the muscles in his neck and on his shoulders… though my hands may have strayed a bit farther than they needed to gather his hair a time or two… when I could not pretend his hair needed any more combing, I braided his the locks before his ears, as he frequently wore them, his eyes were closed as I worked… and he looked more at peace than I had ever seen him.  
When I handed him back the comb, he turned to me, looked at my own meager locks.  
“May I?” He asked, and I nodded. We switched positions, with him kneeling behind me as I sat on the edge of the bed. His big callused hands were surprisingly gentle as he removed the ribbons from my hair, and removed my apron, which I had forgotten I was wearing.  
He took his time brushing my hair, and then braided it up in a way unfamiliar to me as I enjoyed the touch of his hands and the furnace warmth of his body behind me.  
When he was done, he turned me to look at his work… or so I thought, until he was kissing me. His beard was rough against my cheeks as his warm lips pressed against mine. I dared not let him guess my inexperience, for fear he would start thinking me a child again… I closed my eyes and mimicked the motions of his mouth as his lips kneaded mine, sucking my bottom lip into the heat of his mouth, then my top lip, allowing me to capture his bottom lip in my own mouth.  
Then he thrust his tongue into my mouth, pulling me close with one arm while the other hand ran through my braided hair… I moaned in response to the assault of his tongue, surrendering to the onslaught. He growled in response… pulling my body tighter against his broad muscular chest. I tentatively placed one arm around him to pull him closer in return, my other arm trapped against his broad chest.  
Thorin never stopped kissing me, my head was so spinning with emotions I could not name I hardly realized he had undone the back of my dress until his callused hand was on my naked skin. He pushed me away, gently, and tugged down on my undone dress so it fell useless around my waist. I blushed under his bold gaze, reached for him again. He moved away across the bed, his blue eyes sparkling with a smile as he began to unfasten his pants.  
“Take it off…” he whispered hoarsely. I stood, dropping my dress to the floor, then crawled naked back onto the bed to him before I could become any more embarrassed. He struggled his pants off and pulled me to him, pushing me to lay on the bed, his powerful body over mine as he kissed me ferociously, his big hands roaming over my body, and I moaned against him again, my body bucking on it’s own as I clung to him.  
He pressed his knee between my legs, opening me to him… and I balked, pulling away, frightened. The Dwarf responded quickly, drawing back as I whimpered.  
“Shh… shh, lass. I will not hurt you.” He said, deep eyes concerned, stroking the side of my face with his strong hand. “Did you not wish…”  
“I… I do wish to…” I gasped, trying to stop myself from trembling, “I desire you… so much… but I’ve never…”  
His blue eyes widened in surprise and understanding, looking up at me from under his heavy brows, “Oh lass…” Thorin said, deep voice warm, “Your first time… would you truly choose this Dwarf… who will not be here the day after the morrow?”  
“Yes.” I said, reaching for him, “Yes, more than anything… I am just frightened…”  
“I will go slowly.” he promised, lowering himself atop me again to kiss me, but with far more gentleness than before… as though there was nothing in the world before or after our kissing.  
I followed his lead, running my fingers through the thick soft curls of his chest when he touched my breasts, my hands enjoying the hard muscles of his abdomen as his hands moved lower. His fingers were gentle as he petted the soft down between my legs. I hesitated, but I let my hands follow on his body where his led on mine.  
I knew enough, from overhearing saucy gossip, to know a little of what to do. ‘Firm but Gentle’ seemed to be the consensus… so I took the initiative… wrapping my hand gently around his thick erection, pumping it gently, experimentally.  
He groaned softly, kissing me harder again. I spread my legs for him, just a little , and he dipped his thick fingers between them gently to explore my sex. I gasped involuntarily as he brushed my entrance, but did not enter.  
“Ah… this knows what it’s doing…” he said showing me the wetness that coated his fingers from their exploration… he put his fingers in his mouth, licking my wetness from them as I blushed, laughing a little.  
He reached back between my legs with a thoroughly wet finger, sliding it up and down my cleft as I arched and moaned against him… then deftly slid it inside me.  
“Oh…” I gasped, eyes closing in pleasure. “Oh, yes… Thorin…” my hand tightened involuntarily on his erection and he moaned in appreciation.  
He moved one thick finger slowly in and out of my sex until I was thoroughly used to it before introducing a second finger.  
I squeaked at the unexpected fullness of it, my eyes flying open. He looked at me with equal measures of concern and anticipation.  
“So… big…” I managed to gasp as he began to work his fingers in and out of me again.  
“… and this is bigger still.” he said, glancing down to his erection I still pumped erratically when I could think of it over the pleasure. “There are other things we could do, if you do not wish to…”  
“I want you!” I gasped, arching against him, “I want all of you… while I still can…”  
He moved his knee between my legs again, and this time I opened for him willingly. He removed his fingers from my thoroughly wet sex, wiping the moisture on his erection, which he maneuvered between my legs, pressing the thick head against my entrance.  
I whimpered, tensing… expecting the pain I’d been told my whole life I would experience my first time.  
“Shh…” the dwarf soothed, not moving to enter me. He kissed my collar bone, and my breasts, stroking my body with his free hand until I relaxed, not realizing he was pressing slowly into me until he drew partway out and started again, pressing forward with infinite slowness.  
He groaned as he finally sheathed himself completely in me, and I was gasping at the perfection of being so much more full than full… of having filled an emptiness I had never known I had.  
“How is that… lass.” He groaned, moving slowly in me.  
“Yes… so much… good.” I tried to tell him, but I could hardly form a full thought for all the pleasure. I leaned up to kiss him, and he supported my head, cradling me in his strong arms as our bodies rocked with our pleasure.  
We moved together for what seemed like hours before he groaned deep in his throat, his pace quickening.  
“I cannot… I am…” he gasped, pulling out of me, laying between my legs with his head on my stomach as his body convulsed in what I knew must be his orgasm. I stroked his silken hair as his breathing slowly normalized.  
He cleaned himself up with a towel, handing me one to clean myself with too. There was a little blood, a few drops mixed into my wetness, but I was not in any pain. He stood silently, looking at me laying on his bed for a few moments, until I grew shy under his unreadable gaze and reached toward him.  
He came to the bed and lay down… I snuggled into his side, my cheek resting on his broad shoulder, and he pulled the blanket over us.. then blew out the lamp and we were in darkness.

I was disoriented when I awoke in the morning… my hair felt strange…and the light was all wrong… and I was curled up against the powerful muscular frame of a lightly snoring Dwarf.  
The previous night came back to me in a rush and I gasped, sitting up. My motion roused Thorin, who was instantly fully awake, looking for the source of my surprise until he realized it was himself. I kissed him quickly on the forehead as I got myself dressed as quickly as I could.  
“I shouldn’t be found here.” I explained, quickly, “And I begin work soon… I will see you today?”  
He nodded once, and I quickly snuck out of his room. I padded up to my room and changed into a clean dress… no time to change my hair… I heard the other hired girls making their way downstairs and I fell in at the end of the line as though nothing were different.  
I was… not sore, exactly… a bit tender, between my legs and I smiled slightly as I thought of the reason.  
I smiled again as I heard the clanging as Thorin began his blacksmithing work for the day… his last day.  
It wasn’t until later in the morning when Cook seemed to put my hair and my dreamy behavior together. Her eyes snapped like a storm and she hustled me into the pantry for a private conference.  
“that… that… filthy dwarf.” she hissed, “What did he promise you, hmm? Gold? Treasures? You know he cannot even give you a home, he hasn’t one of his own… Did he promise to take you with him? He won’t. He’s already made plans to leave tomorrow, did he tell you that?”  
I stuck out my chin obstinately. “He promised me nothing.” I was determined to stand up for him, “And yes, he did tell me that he was leaving. And yes, I do know that I will not go with him.”  
“Master Egill won’t like it…” Cook shook her head.  
“Master Egill does not own me!” I snapped, “What is it to him who I choose to spend my… my time with?” I could not quite bring myself to say it, not yet.  
Cook softened, put a hand on my cheek. “He didn’t… hurt you, did he?”  
“No…” I said, blushing, “It was…mmm…” I smiled, unable to hold it in, unable to explain.  
“Well…” Cook said, not exactly approving, but no longer angry, “At least there’s that…”

Thorin seemed to catch my eye every time I brought him water that day, glancing up to acknowledge my presence before concentrating back on his work. I hoped I was not imagining the desire in his eyes.  
We sat close together on the bench at dinner, our thighs pressed tight together… but we did not seem to have anything to say. My heart beat quickly for joy at his closeness… and bled for the thought of him leaving. With such conflict of emotions how could I speak?  
Once I was done with the dinner dishes I came back out to watch him work. He was working on something small again, with those tiny hammers that rang like bells as he worked.  
I had for once remembered to take off my apron… and had tried to make my dress look nice… but he was working and did not seem to notice me.  
I sat on a bench and waited patiently, remembering the feel of his strong muscles against my body as I watched him work.  
He spread the coals in the forge when he was done, well after the sun had set, then turned to me, skin blackened with smudges of ash, lit with nothing but the red flickering light of the coals.  
“You.” He growled, the overpowering scent of metal and fire filling my nose as he forcibly kissed me… I melted against him as he plundered my mouth with his tongue.  
“All day you have teased me, lass.” He growled, hands leaving dark stains on my dress as he groped me and I moaned, “Smiling at me when you knew I could do nothing with others watching…”  
I could do nothing but moan and kiss him back as his hand found it’s way under my dress and a big callused finger found it’s way to my sex, slipping into the waiting wetness.  
Fast as thought he had picked me up as though I were as light as a child, laying me down on the courtyard, in the ashes and dirt, lifting my skirt to my waist as he fumbled with the front of his pants to free his erection… I opened for him eagerly.  
There was no gentle build-up this time… with three short thrusts he was inside me, and I moaned deep in my throat at the intensity of the sudden intrusion. He was wild, pounding into me ferociously as he growled, biting my neck… an entirely different animal than he had been last night! He smelt of sweat and metal and he ground me down into the dirt of the courtyard, his inescapably powerful arms pinning me down, the heat of the forge still on him, burning down on me.  
“Yes.” I gasped, “Yes… Thorin, oh…”  
He did not seem to last as long as he had the night before, pulling out of me and lying on me, his chest against my face as he spent his seed against the stomach of my dress, his body jerking uncontrollably as he let out a choked roar…  
He rolled off of me when he was done, and we both lay together, looking up toward the stars, trying to get our breaths back.  
“Oh, lass.” he said, quietly, sadly. “What have I done?”  
I rolled toward him, concerned. “Only good things…” I assured him. “You have shown me such pleasure…” I stroked his chest fondly, through his shirt.  
“You will not thank me when I am gone.” the Dwarf said, in his quiet rumble.  
“I chose you with my eyes open.” I said, quietly, and he argued no more.  
When he was recovered, he stood, offering me a hand and lifting me to my feet with such beautiful ease… and I nearly cried to think that I might never again feel so delicate as I did with a man so strong… but I did not. I would not let him see me weak.  
He poured cool rainwater over my head and I washed myself, striping to nakedness in the dark courtyard, and wringing out my dress to put it back on before returning the favor and pouring water over him while he washed himself.

 

I followed him to his room again, and he let me in without a word. I hung up my wet dress, kneeling naked on his bed to brush his silken hair. I took, if anything, longer than I had the night before, soaking in it’s soft texture, the look of the lamplight on his skin… and then braided it as he usually wore it. I leaned against his back when I was done, just enjoying the closeness of him, and he let me for a while before he offered to do my hair.  
He braided my hair differently from the first time, not using my ribbons. When he was done, he did something behind me, then dropped a knotted ribbon over my head as a necklace, a small pendant attached to it.  
“What is this?” I asked lifting it to look at the decoration.  
“It’s just bronze…” he said, deep voice quiet, “I made it for you…”  
I turned it over and over in my hands, looking at all the little intricacies of the design… geometric designs, lines flowing over and under one another.  
“It’s beautiful.” I whispered, pressing it to my heart, turning to smile at him. “I will cherish it.”  
The dwarf gave a nod, seeming pleased, and I wrapped my arms around his stocky muscular frame to kiss him gently.  
“Do you sleep beside me again tonight, lass?” he rumbled, and I nodded.  
“If you will let me.” I begged, and he gestured to the bed, offering it. I blew out the lamp and curled into the curve of his body, his powerful arms around me and his beard tickling my back.

We both woke in the night… I cannot say why… perhaps I noticed a change in his breathing and it woke me, but when I whispered his name he answered me in his own deep whisper.  
“Yes lass?”  
“Are you awake?” it hardly needed asking. His quiet chuckle was all the answer I needed. I cuddled deeper into his embrace and he rubbed his whiskery face against my shoulder blades.  
As I wiggled closer to him I noticed that he had grown hard, his erection pressing against my bottom. I moved so he was between my legs, the heavy heat of his manhood lying across my entrance. I could feel it moving slightly with his pulse. I reached behind myself with my upper arm and stroked the corded muscles of his thigh.  
I began to move my hips slowly back and forth, rubbing his erection against my quickly dampening sex.  
“Oh lass…” He groaned, moving to match me, “You will drain me entirely…” he shifted himself, changing the angle so that he sank smoothly into my sex and it was my turn to groan with the perfection of being so deliciously filled.  
We moved together slowly, enjoying the sensations and the closeness… I could have drifted back to sleep… but he lifted his hand to my mouth.  
“Suck on my fingers…” he requested, “There is one more thing I would show you…”  
I set to my task willingly, tasting the textures of his thick callused fingers until the skin softened and he drew his hand away, trailing it down my body to my sex.  
The Dwarf began at my entrance, gathering more moisture, then massaging his way slowly upward until he struck a point of pure pleasure that made me cry out.  
“Shh…” He was nearly laughing, “You’ll wake the house.”  
“…what was… what is…” I gasped as he continued softly rubbing the point that brought me such pleasure.  
“Did you think only males were meant to feel pleasure?” he asked as I shuddered against him, lifting my leg over his to give his hand better access to… to the center of my pleasure.  
He pleasured me for I cannot say how long, until the heavens shuddered and I buried my face in the pillow to cry out for the glory of it, until he could take no more and pulled out of me to spend his seed against the small of my back.  
We cleaned ourselves, and lay together a little while… I licked the sweat from his neck, and he rubbed his bearded face against my breasts.  
“Lass… lass…” he said, his deep voice gentle, his blue eyes kind, “We will never sleep… you must go. I must leave and you must work… we must rest.”  
I agreed reluctantly, putting on my half-dry dress, gathering my things and kissing him softly before I left.

My room seemed desolate… and there was a thought halfway at the back of my mind that did not let me sleep soundly. I cracked open my window before I got into my bed and slept fitfully.  
As I had half suspected I would, I heard him as he prepared to leave just before the break of day. I dressed myself quickly in a clean dress, making sure the ribbon necklace he had given me was displayed between my breasts, and ran out to see him off.  
“Lass…” he shook his head as he saw me, his blue eyes sad. “let us not…”  
I raised a hand to silence him, drawing myself up tall. “I will not cry. I will not beg you to stay. I wanted to wish you well and see you off on your journey.”  
This was how I wanted him to remember me. Strong. And he seemed to understand. He nodded to me in gratitude as he finished packing his tools into his pack, strapped on his sword, and settled his pack for his journey. His eyes sought out the distant mountains and he breathed deeply.  
“Goodbye Thorin.” I said, quietly.  
“Farewell lass.” He said, equally quiet. “Your company has been welcome.” He drew me into an embrace and I breathed in for the last time his scent of fire and metal. He tapped my chin gently, affectionately, before turning and walking away into the rising dawn.

And I did not cry.

Not while he could hear or see.


	2. Epilogue: The Braided Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: A Bronze Pendant was hot smutty Thorin, it’s epilogue isn’t.  
> It is more an exploration of the sadness of relationships that never were or could never be… with the added complication of when one person’s natural life span is much different than the other’s.  
> Balin and Dwalin make a cameo appearance.  
> I would like to think this one is set no more than 10 years before the hobbit, but I’m not sure that actually works within the cannon timeline, so I’m not sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at http://thorinsmut.tumblr.com/post/38900132379/a-bronze-pendant-epilogue  
> I kept delaying posting this to AO3 because I thought I was going to edit it further... but I have come to the realization that I'm just not going to. My headcannons have moved on from this particular story. I'm over it.   
> So... *drop-kicks story in the general direction of the internet*   
> *walks away*

My Minna stepped back into the kitchen where I was working with the cook to write the menu for the following month.  
“We have a Dwarf, mother!” She told me conspiratorially, knowing how I love to visit with any dwarf I can, surly though they can be. “He’s a handsome one, too.” Minna fanned herself with her apron, blushing slightly, “Were he just a little taller… oh, the dirty things I’d have him do to me…”  
“Shame on you, girl.” I scolded her lightly, putting aside my pen and standing, patting my pure-white braids to be sure they were in place, “What would your husband say?”  
She sniffed, putting on a mock-offended air, ruined by her cheeky smile, “A woman may _look_ , mother.”  
“I had best make him welcome, anyway.” I smoothed my dress and made sure my necklace with it’s Dwarven-made bronze pendant was visible… that pendant, more than anything else, seemed to open conversations with Dwarves who were otherwise reluctant to speak to anyone.  
“He’s set himself by the fire.” Minna volunteered, and I stepped out into my establishment.  
It is a small inn… or perhaps more of a small tavern with a small inn attached, it is a humble place, but I have spent my life building it’s fine reputation for hospitality, especially among Dwarves.  
As I stepped into the tavern, my aged eyes strained to pick out the Dwarf… there he was, a big dark lump brooding in furs. I had stepped forward to make my way to him when something caused him to turn his head – the firelight catching in his dark hair and beard, his eyes shadowed under his heavy brows, his profile unmistakeable.  
In two steps as quick as my old bones would move me I was ducked back out of sight, pressing my back against a wall to steady myself as I pressed my trembling hands to the pendant over my heart.  
“Oh, Thorin…” I whispered, looking down at my hands… the skin spotted, thin and wrinkled… I raised them to my face, touching the wrinkles there.  
I had grown old… and he was unchanged… but what was another fifty years to one who had been over a hundred when we first met?  
I wiped the tears from my traitor eyes, pulling off my necklace, which I placed in my apron pocket. I steeled myself… a woman does not have a successful inn- or raise three children- or have forty years of happy marriage- without learning how to _act_.  
With firm resolve and a smile I walked back out to make him welcome.  
“Master Dwarf.” I bobbed the brief curtsey my knees would still allow me, and he turned to look at me with those sad blue eyes I remembered. There was a little more gray in his hair, and a wrinkle or two of worry between his brows. He seemed wider in the shoulders than he had been… or had I simply misremembered his size?  
“Welcome to the Braided Woman Inn,” I flowed into my introduction without loosing a beat, “I am the proprietress, the Braided Woman herself.” my hand brushed my hair, two braids sweeping from each temple, looping beneath my ears and up to a bun in the back of my head, the braids that were echoed in the motif of my establishment’s crest.  
“If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, do not hesitate to ask.” I continued, smoothly, “We have cozy ground-floor rooms suitable for Dwarves, if you choose to spend the night with us… dinner will be served soon, the cook’s finest roast mutton with gravied turnips, if you wish to eat with us… and the first round of ale is on the house if you choose to drink.”  
He nodded gravely, “I would have my pony cared for… and those of my two companions when they arrive.” he said in the deep rumble I still so clearly remembered, “And some ale would be most welcome.”  
“At once, sir.” I agreed, and worked my way back to to the bar, gesturing to the on-duty stable boy, a grandson of mine, and he nodded understanding, ducking out to care for Thorin’s pony.  
One foaming tankard of the House Ale in hand, I took it to the Dwarf beside the fire. It was normally at this point, after the first long refreshing sip, when a dwarf was most likely to speak to me.  
“That’s dwarven make…” They’d say, pointing to my necklace, and I would explain that it was made for me by a dear friend when I was a girl… sometimes they would ask to see it, pouring over the geometric linework… and then they were normally friendly enough that I could coax them to speak of their homes, their families, the history and lore of their people.  
Imagine my shock when I first realized that my Thorin was a king, or should be… that the Erebor he’d spoken of was his grandfather’s great mountain kingdom, taken by a terrible dragon…  
But I was not wearing my necklace… and Thorin, after the first long sip, simply nodded to me of it’s acceptability and turned his sad eyes back to stare at the fire.  
I let him be.  
I continued to work in the front, the Tavern floor, delivering drinks and visiting here and there with guests and regulars… but while my hands and my smile remained steady, in my core I was shaken. How long had I dreamed of seeing him again, as a young woman? How often had I imagined that he would see me and smile, lifting the sorrow from his eyes, if only briefly. And now… now here he was, and I was old and unrecognizable to him… but it was for the best, let him remember me as young and pretty rather than this… if he remembered me at all.  
When Thorin’s two companions arrived, I greeted them. They were a shorter dwarf with hair as white as my own, and a taller gruff dwarf with a bald tattooed head. I pointed them in Thorin’s direction and served them drinks and dinner, and then left them alone, their deep voices rumbling together as they conspired by the fire.  
They spoke late into the night… many of the guests left to their homes or retired to their rooms, and the atmosphere grew mellow and quiet. The cook brought out the unfinished menu, and we sat at a table to finish it before she retired for the night.  
I took my time, slowly clearing and cleaning tables until two of my hired girls forcibly made me sit and put my feet up, giving me a small plate of mutton and turnips the cook had saved for me to pick at when I was done for the night, as well as a half-pint of light ale to calm me, while they finished cleaning up. They had put me near enough the fire to stay warm, but not so near that the Dwarves would feel the intrusion of my presence.  
It seemed the Dwarves had come to a decision, they no longer conspired so earnestly. They called for another round of ale and leaned themselves back comfortably.  
They sang together, quietly, their low voices barely carrying over the crackling of the fire as they sang of journeys and fire and loss… the tavern growing silent as all paused to listen.  
Tears pricked at my eyes… and I wiped them from my cheeks with my napkin, meal forgotten… I knew the sadness Thorin carried, could feel it in his voice, just as I had seen it in his eyes when I was young and did not yet know why… if our brief love had helped ease his burden, even for a moment… then I must be content with that.  
If I had not been so distracted I might have seen my Minna, might have waved her away before it was too late… but I did not see, and she walked across the tavern to me with my necklace carried aloft, the polished bronze pendant gleaming like gold in the firelight… and there is nothing like that gleam to draw the eye of a dwarf.  
“You must have dropped it!” Minna whispered, settling it over my head. “You must take care, Mother! It was on a table, no doubt one of the girls picked it up off the floor… suppose you lost it?”  
“Thank you, dear.” I whispered back, tucking the pendant away into my bodice… it was not her fault. I glanced at Thorin, but luckily he did not seem to have seen, facing away from me toward the fire as he quietly sang. I breathed relief, closing my eyes to listen to the remainder of their song.  
When they were done, I glanced over again, only to have the eldest Dwarf catch my eye. He smiled behind his voluminous white beard.  
“Mistress…” He said, with a polite nod, “Was that necklace of Dwarven make?”  
“You have a sharp eye, Master Dwarf.” I said, smiling as my heart sank. I drew it out from my bodice as I stood, taking the empty seat closest to him.  
“It is just bronze, but I treasure it. The pendant was made for me by a very dear friend, when I was young.” I said, lifting the chain from my head and placing it in his outstretched hand. He took a small jeweler’s glass from his pocket, placing it on his eye to look closely at the designs.  
I could not bear to look at Thorin, I could see in my peripheral vision that he had gone still… more still than his usual… as the elder Dwarf turned the pendant this way and that. The bald Dwarf was leaning over closer to see, and they commented to each other favorably on it’s make and the craftsman’s hand. When they were done looking, they handed it to Thorin, who accepted it silently.  
“It is a fine piece.” the elder dwarf complimented, “The one who made it for you must have been a good friend indeed… here, I am Balin.” he offered his hand, which I clasped firmly.  
“Well met, Balin… I am Finna.”  
“Dwalin.” the larger Dwarf rumbled, and I clasped his meaty hand in turn. Their eyes traveled to Thorin, and my eyes were finally drawn to him as well. He gazed silently down into his palm where the pendant lay, running his thumb over the designs. Finally he breathed deeply, almost a sigh, and his deep blue eyes turned toward me, their expression gentle. He handed the necklace back, his big hands enveloping mine as he pressed the pendant into them.  
“Thorin.” he said, quietly.  
“Well met.” I replied, and placed the necklace back over my head, pressing the pendant to my heart, my face calm as my heart pounded.  
We spoke for a short time, Balin telling me a few stories of Dwarven history that I had not already heard, and seemed pleased when I was able to understand, roughly, where they fit in their history… but soon enough he decreed that it was late, and he and Dwalin purchased a room for the night and left for it, first clasping Thorin by the shoulder, the three nodding together in agreement of something.  
There were no more guests in the tavern. The fire was burning low, the hired girls had gone to bed, and the majority of the lamps had been turned out. Thorin and I sat alone in silence.  
“You would have said nothing.” he rumbled quietly, looking into the fire.  
“What would you have had me say?” I replied, equally quiet, “I am old now, Thorin.”  
He shifted in his furs and armor, the dim firelight not quite reaching his eyes.  
“It is… good… to know that you have done well…” his deep voice was almost unhearably quiet.  
“I have done well…” I assured him, “I have my children and grandchildren… I have my Inn… I have many friends… and I had a happy marriage to a fine man who loved me well…” I moved closer to him, sat on the hearth with the fire behind me and him before.  
“I have lived a happy life…” I dared reach out and touch the rough beard on his cheek, “…and you are grown sadder… I would not wish you to remember me old, I would rather you keep the happy memory of how I was…”  
“I can remember both.” He said gently, “I can remember the sweet lass who gave me everything and asked for nothing. I can remember her speaking brave words through trembling lips as she set me on my way… and I can remember the kind woman who’s hospitality grows legend among travelers… the one does not diminish the other.”  
We grew quiet again. Finally, he reached out to me, touched the pendant on my breast with a callused finger.  
“The lines and shapes tell a simple story.” He rumbled quietly, “Any Dwarf who has looked at it will know that you once loved and were loved by a Dwarf.”  
I lifted the little pendant in my palm, held it to the firelight. “I had guessed.” I confessed. “I have spent my life seeing how Dwarves respond to it… and I have never been ashamed.” I looked up, caught his deep blue eyes, “I have never regretted or been ashamed of my choice.”  
He nodded briefly his understanding, shifting again in his gleaming armor and heavy furs, staring beyond me into the fire… and we lapsed back into silence.  
Finally, I stood, taking up the lamp my hired girls had left me.  
“I will see you to your room, Thorin.” I offered, moving to where the keys were kept. “Old friends stay for free.”  
He nodded to accept my offer, and I took him to the finest Dwarf room I had, unlocking it for him and handing him the key.  
“Good night, Thorin.” I said gently, turning to leave.  
“I will be gone before first light.” He said, his deep voice slightly rough.  
“Then good night and farewell.” I said. “…and, if your travels bring you back… there will always be a room for you here.”

I stood at my window – the lamp at the front of the inn the only light in the pre-dawn darkness while I watched a dark stocky shape stride out to the barn… then, a short while later, ride away on a shaggy pony, taking the road East.  
“Mother?” Minna said, sleepily coming into my room, “Are you alright? I heard you moving around…”  
“I am fine, dear.” I said, wiping the slow tears from my eyes.  
“Are you crying?” she asked, peering toward me in the darkness.  
“No, dear.” I said gently. “Go back to bed, it’s not yet dawn.”

Thorin rode up to the Braided Woman inn, the cheery sign with the white braids creaking in the breeze. He tied his pony quickly, and strode inside.  
A plump, cheery woman greeted him, a bronze pendant on a chain about her neck.  
“That necklace…Is Finna here?” He asked, roughly.  
“No, no.” the woman waved her arm, “My mother died a few years back, I’m sorry… but you’re right, this was her necklace. She loved it, she wore it until the day she died.”  
“Thank you.” he said, shortly, turning to leave.  
“Wait…” the woman said, slightly hesitant, worried, “If it would not be too impolite… what is your name?”  
“I am Thorin.” he said gruffly, and her brow cleared.  
“I thought you might be.” She said, “You match the description. My mother said to give you something… wait here…”  
The plump woman returned quickly, a small letter in her hand, and handed it to him… then, sadly, removed the pendant from the chain and placed it in his hand.  
“She said that it was to go to you…” the woman said, sadly. “You must have been… a very great friend of hers…”  
“Thank you.” Thorin said again, more gently this time, and left.  
He had ridden a long way before he read the letter.  
When he stopped for the night, he burnt the letter in the fire – and with improvised tools he heated the pendant in the coals and then beat it with a hammer against a boulder until it was in a thousand tiny shards - until the rock cracked and broke into rubble under his powerful blows and he threw his hammer down… and there was water on his face but it was surely just sweat, or rain…  
He was glad he had no companions with him that day. That there was no one he might have to explain himself to.


End file.
